Owed to You
by MissOriginalVampire
Summary: I'm Katherine Pierce, I'm a survivor. As they say. /Datherine, Flashbacks occasionally. Reviews welcome, somewhat AU/.
1. Chapter 1

Owed to You

Chapter One

The clatter of hooves and familiar creak of passing wagons fills the surrounding air as I stroll along the beaten pathway, the train of my dress lagging in the mud behind me. The sun has begun to sink in the sky, leaving a large amber smudge above me. To my right, my stallion trots energetically in the corn field. With a swift click of my fingers, a young girl rushes to my side, her deep red dress flying out as she does so. A soft smirk crosses my lips as I raise a dainty finger to point toward the gleeful pony. "Penelope, darling", I turn to face her. "See that Lancelot is returned to his stable, for farmer Edwards shan't be pleased". Without hesitation, she offers me a swift nod. "Right away, miss". I hover for a moment, observing her as she turns on her heels and dashes into the field. The sky has now formed a dusky purple, and I realise it has grown dark in the midst of my thoughts.

As I turn toward the doorway and enter, I lift a single candlestick from the hallway to light my way. It's flame flickers in the breeze as the door is closed behind me, but does not extinguish. Several of the usual faces scurry past me, each bowing in turn with their greetings. "Good evening, miss". Without so much as a second glance, I wander straight past them. My mind is preoccupied. Will he return tonight? I am sure I cannot bear another second without him. I am roused from my thoughts as my shrug is removed from my shoulders. Suddenly, the scarlet dress rushes to my side once more. Glancing down at her mud-soaked boots, I frown deeply.

"Penelope, have I not told you time and time again about your incessant ability to drag dirt through this house? I think I shall be having stern words with your mother about you". She hangs her head in shame, her unruly curls falling forward.

"Yes, miss. My apologies. You've a guest awaiting your presence in the drawing room".

With a small nod, I wave a dismissive hand and she swoops out of my sight. The oak door before me is swung open, revealing a tall figure with his back to me. The fireplace provides the only light in the room, it's flames crackling softly in the background. As I smile widely and take a few hurried steps inside, the figure turns to face me. His smile mirrors mine.

"Stefan?", my voice dripping in disbelief. "You have returned?"

"Indeed, Miss Pierce, I have", he strolls across the room to take my hand in his, bowing as he places a gentle kiss on my digits. My smile grows wider still as I lift the hem of my dress and courtesy with a nod.

"It has been ever such a long time since we were parted. How did the journey please you?". Straightening up, he grins down at me.

"I cannot complain. Smooth seas for the most part". I grow more eager as I lean in toward him. The smirk plastered across his features suggests that he already knows my next inquiry, but I make it nevertheless.

"And what of your brother?", my voice hangs in the room for a moment before it is broken by Stefan's chuckle.

"Damon sends his regards. He has missed you terribly, and should be returned before the night is over". I cannot stop the smile which creeps upon my lips.

"He _misses _me?", I feel my heart flutter at the simple thought of him. Stefan rolls his eyes, maintaining his grin.

"He speaks of you every day. I'm sure the two of you will be glad to be reunited". With a quiet laugh, I nod toward him.

"You are like a brother I never had, Mister Salvatore. I am glad you remember these happenings so well". The heat from the fireplace has begun to make me a little uneasy, as tiny beads of moisture form on my brow.

"And you, a sister to me". The sincerity of his words only warms my heart further.

"I am ever so happy to see you returned, Stefan". I bend to lift the front of my dress once again, bowing ever so slightly. "But it is with this that I must bid you a good night". He offers me a final smile, which I return before exiting and making my way up the marbled staircase to my bedchamber.

As I set my candlestick down on the polished dressing table with practised ease, a voice beckons from the doorway. 

"Will that be all, miss Katherine?" 

My reply is well rounded and smooth, "Yes, Emily, you may return to your quarters." Raising my hand sharply, I motion for her to wait. "But, please do have a word with your daughter about those dreaded boots of hers. I do not appreciate that mess upon my floors. Goodnight". With a well-rehearsed courtesy, she turns and leaves with her ragged dress dragging the floor ever so elegantly. The silence of the room presses down upon me, the flicker of the candle casting dancing shadows along the opposing wall. Gradually, they are engulfed by a mass of darkness. A grin creeps onto my lips as I feel familiar hands sneak around my waist from behind, loosening my corset as they go.

A warm voice in my ear sends uncontrollable chills down my spine. "Hello, lover". Turning to face the tall figure, I feel his digits curl a loose strand of my hair. "Did you miss me?". His eyes seem to penetrate me to my very core, a shocking shade of crystal blue. Leaning in, my lips part, poised for a heated kiss when suddenly I feel his body forced against mine, his eyes draining to a blank shade, but never breaking contact with my own. The weight of his body presses against mine as he slowly slumps to the ground, and my gaze latches onto the blood- soaked knife held tightly in Emily's grip. Her words strike at the pit of my stomach, freezing me from within.

"Hello, lover".

With a gasp, I spring bolt upright in bed with hurried breathing, drenched in a layer of cold sweat. Panicked, I turn my attention to the clock glowing by my bedside. Four- thirty in the morning, as usual. Running a hand through my matted and tangled hair, I sigh deeply. The same nightmare _again_?Fourth time this week, probably nearing the thousandth time since the fateful night. Two centuries down the line, yet I'm still plagued with the same heart-wrenching scene. I am withdrawn from my thoughts as I feel warm arms hook their way around my sweat-covered waist. Glancing down at the familiar figure in bed by my side, his words echo in my ears as his sharp blue eyes lock with mine.

"Hello, lover".


	2. Chapter 2

Owed To You

Chapter Two

The kettle breaks the hanging silence of my kitchen as it hisses it's usual pitch, the shrillness making me wince. Lack of sleep never fails to reward me with a ridiculous headache. Dragging my mug across the counter, I half-heartedly fill it with the boiling liquid. A decent night's sleep, that's all I ask. But no. Each one is tainted by twisted scenes, replaying over and over in my mind. As the steam from my coffee warms my chin, a deep voice whispers in my ear from behind.

"That's getting cold". I allow a weak smile to find its way onto my face as I turn to him, placing a gentle hand on his chest.

"Not while you're here". Tracing small circles on his crisp white shirt, I tilt my head. "How long until you leave?". The question hangs in the air for a few painful moments, before his reply.

"I'm meeting Stefan at the docks...", he lifts an arm to glance at his watch, perking an eyebrow. "Ten minutes ago". I am unable to prevent the groan that escapes my lips.

"You'll call _every night _as promised, yes?", my inquiry comes across more like an order. Amused by my authority, he chuckles. Without giving him ample time to respond, I grab his auburn tie in my hands and pull his head down to my lips.

*...*

My heart feels heavy in my chest as I stand in my front doorway, coffee in hand. The cool morning breeze struggles past me, carrying with it a few scattered leaves. Here we go. Another few months to spend alone, with worsening nightmares. Sure, a remedy would soon be found. As Damon promised, anyway. Raising a hand to wave gingerly at the retreating taxi, I give a quiet sigh. Watching him leave never seemed to become any easier, each goodbye filling me with a brand new batch of doubt. He blows me a kiss as the vehicle turns the final corner, before it vanishes from my sight. After lingering for a few moments, I step back to close the door with a creak.

Scrunching my nose, I drain the final drips of coffee from my mug. I've never much appreciated the granules left at the bottom, but I always drunk them none the less. As of late, consumption of blood had been affecting the severity of my nightmares. So, naturally, coffee would suffice. Turning the page tentatively, I examine the final headline in the town newspaper. A proud smile sets onto my features as the familiar faces become clear. The upside to this whole situation reveals itself to me once more, and I feel a ray of sunshine burst through the dim corners of my heart. My passion, my saviour from constant paranoia. From fear of _her. _From all supernatural matters.

_Queen's Theatre Presents: Les Miserables._

Carefully folding the paper in two, I arise from my armchair. The house lies eerily quiet in his absence, a sound which sadly is no stranger to me. However much I despise it. As I shuffle my feet against the cold floorboards, I drag my fingertips across a polished white surface. My piano, my pride and joy, stands before me in all its subtle elegance. My hand lingers for a moment, resisting the urge to press the keys. Standing unnaturally still, I am once again struck dumb by its comforting lustre. I gasp as the silence is immediately broken by the grandfather clock, chiming noon. Turning on my heels to rush upstairs, I ponder over what to wear. I'm already late.

*...*

Hurrying along the cluttered alleyway, my black dress catches softly around my knees. I can already hear the music emanating from the building to my right as I approach a tall black door labelled 'STAGE'. Standing before it, I quickly glance down at my phone. A relieved sigh escapes me as I see what I had hoped for. No new messages. In my mind, that meant that all was running smoothly. No news is good news, or something like that. Giving three gentle taps on the door, I take a small step back. A few moments pass before it is swung open, and I am greeted by a tall figure, dressed fully in black leathers. I maintain a straight face for as long as possible, before laughing softly and taking his hand as he pulls me into a hug.

"Hey, lil' Kathy". His built frame almost engulfs me completely, and I force myself to pull back.

"Great to be back, Marco". For the first time in what feels like forever, a genuine smile finds its way onto my face.

"Care to explain where you've been?", he raises a hand to cut me off before I can answer. "Damon came back, didn't he?". Satisfied with his accurate synopsis, I merely nod. I am met by a low chuckle on his part as he nudges me before leading me off down the usual hallway. "You mean to say you _still _ain't told anyone you play?". His words force a laugh from my lips as I shake my head quickly.

"I _told _you I don't want anyone knowing. And, besides." I offer him a small shrug as we wander through a crowded room. "_Play _is still an awfully strong word". Descending the darkened set of wooden steps, he throws me an exasperated glance, rolling his emerald hues. Turning to face me, he effortlessly pushes open the door with the printed in gold lettering: 'ORCHESTRA'.

"If I've told you once, I've told you a _thousand times,_ Petrova." We come to a steady halt as we reach the piano. "You've got something special, and you shouldn't doubt it the way you do." I deliberately avoid his eyes as I take my seat upon my stool, pulling myself in closer in order to properly reach the brass pedals. As I pretend to be engrossed in my keys, he leans down to whisper in my ear.

"Any further progressions with the whole _Emily _problem?". Looking up at him, I shrug.

"By the time this week is out, possibly. It all depends on how Damon gets on". His expression darkens as he processes my words. I smirk as he leans closer, drawing out his fangs.

"I still don't understand why we can't just kill her...", I give him a sharp tap under the chin to shush him with a giggle.

"You know very well we can't do that". I momentarily glance away as I hear the shuffle of company behind the closed curtain above us. "Now, go sit down, mister over-protective". Slowly setting his pointed teeth away, his expression softens.

"Knock 'em dead, superstar". He gives me a tap on the shoulder, throwing me a playful wink before making his way past the woodwind section to take his seat behind the drum kit. My sheet music lies open in front of me, a sea of quavers, semiquavers and half a dozen other notes I knew like the back of my hand. Cracking my knuckles, I place my fingers upon the keys. The bustling atmosphere drains away as the house lights are dimmed, and I take a deep breath. Glancing over at Marco, I let it out slowly. Giving me one final wink, the curtains open, he clicks us in, and it's showtime.


End file.
